"fingerprinting" poems
I'm stuck in this room
Trapped by the decaying white walls
That I scrape away at,
Mindlessly, as I shift
From medicated dreams to
Manic insomnia.
I thought the last thing I said to you was
Don't leave me here.
My eyes bleed
As I try to remove the demons
Infesting me,
Creeping through my lashes
Into my irises.
The droplets stain the walls,
Fingerprinting my frenzied panic,
Echoing the last thing I said to you.
Why did you leave me here?
The air is intoxicating,
Shifting from breathlessness to weightlessness.
I'm sure they poison me here.
And you, the fallen angel of my thoughts,
You fiendish whisperer,
You have felt my fear,
Witnessed its brutality
In its shifting manifestations,
But still you left me here.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
when some said hello
some said ha ha,
said holmes without sherlock to signal a sighting
in signature of fingerprinting a shake;
but some said hello,
some shook some with stipend erased freezing;
after all... the doctor allowed a carcass to instil a freed numbness!
a clown frowned attempting to be picky with laughter
mascaraed, and then all hell ready to be hibernating yawned
ready from the hyperbole excused ******* a tadpole into thinking of frogs.
oh we loved the laugh the pouch of orange juiced pulled apart and pulped
into skins and skinny; we were all ready for a hajj there and then!
ha ha! make that scented with coriander!
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
some ways back,
new babe poets
sought me out,
asking, seeking
The How
and the
Please Sir,
touch me,
here and there,
tell me secrets,
as if any I knew
but I did,
sotto voce,
behind the scenes
gladly,
for the greatest pleasure
man invented is
lending a hand,
a kind word
would write them
long essays
but never
sent them
two standards I could
never ever meet:
what did I know,
worth keeping,
whom am I
to judge
these days,
must stop to thank them
my voice is changing,
when I answered myself
now only simplest words
emerging
knowing that each of us,
value galore,
ad valorem
move quieter,
fingerprinting my modest stays
in your words and lives,
semi-loudly, and semi-humbly,
for they tell me
so much,
so well,
teaching that,
that all
is worth keeping.
and that is the best advice
I ever got
to give
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
warm hands fingerprinting crisp glass.
oscillating breaths -
between clear and opaque.
a calming condensation.
an understanding of balance.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 6:14 AM UTC
Beyond a wooden door
there is a room
where we sit and grow
three years older together.
Many words spoken,
all ranks broken.
But a thing is always there—
staining whatever it touches.
Blackberry juices fingerprinting
all of my bright white hopes.
A thing molts in the stale air,
trailing feathers
that wean and wane
by the force of our hot breath;
always there in that room
where we denied tomorrow
every credit it begged for.
A thing we gave every other name
aside from its given.
A thing. A simple thing.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
There are memories that I have
Some I like some I would rather
Forget. But the ones I want to remember
That make me. ….me ! Are the a
T
A
M
O
G
O
T
C
H
I
Fall leaves as my niece and nephew played in them
The sight of a jack o lantern
These are the memories that made me
This is my brain finger print of the past
Now
O
N
To the future
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 9:22 AM UTC